


The Moon Above Us

by elephant_eyelash



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Big Sisters, Childhood, F/M, Gen, Little Sisters, Menstruation, Sisters, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:12:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephant_eyelash/pseuds/elephant_eyelash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Crawley sisters, 1909.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon Above Us

She remembers exactly the moments where she realised she was different from her sisters.

They were at Haxby Park one hot summer when she was twelve. The grown ups were fanning themselves under the shadow of the house talking about things Sybil did not yet understand. She was at the age now where she couldn’t rest on her Mama’s lap and listen carefully to the adults, watching and studying them. No, she was a “young lady” now. And apparently that was an art in itself with her sisters as her unofficial teachers. Her Mama and Governess might teach her the proper way to do things, but in her sisters was the dark realities of life as a woman.

Mary was a master of this art. She was sixteen and all the boys watched her. Sybil thought her a princess, like Odette, pale and graceful. Billy laid back on the grass with his cigarette and watched as Mary played, the sunlight filtering through the white of her dress, her long arms artfully posed like a ballet dancer. Edith sat crouched over with her Georgette Hayer novel, occassionally looking up from the pages to watch as her sister danced barefoot on the grass.

Then something within Sybil cracked open and she felt a warmth in between her legs. She blushed ferociously as she recalled some talk her Mother had to her about womanly changes and blood and the moon. And she began to cry quite suddenly, sniffling at the mixture of the sharp, sudden pain and embarassment.

Mama came soon enough and ushered her into a bedroom, laid her down and stroked her head.

“I want to play with the others.” Sybil sniffed, her cheeks fierce and hot.

“Oh darling.” Cora said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll go ring for some tea.”

She slept for a while though occassionally the sound of laughter outside broke through into her dreams. Deep down the pain kept on breaking through in twists of contracting muscle. She rose and peaked through the curtains outside. People milled and chattered. Life went on as hers’ seemed to pause for a while. A feeling of dread came over her in that darkened room.

The door clicked open and Mary was there, her hair damp and loose, spilling past her pale shoulders.

“Sybil darling.” She said. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I’m fine.” Sybil lied. “I want to go back outside.”

“That’s not really something you do, in your condition.”

Sybil looked back at her. “Condition?”

“It’s best to stay in bed and wait for all of it to be over, really. Unless there’s some major engagement.” She said, guiding her baby sister back into bed.

“But I want to come outside.” Sybil said.

“You are being very brave about it all.” Mary said, ignoring her sister’s plea. “Much braver than Edith. She locked herself in the bathroom for hours.”

“Why?”

“Well…” She started, thinking for a moment about how best to phrase it. “It’s very frightening becoming a woman.” She clasped her hands together and looked a little over her shoulder. “Sudden.”  
.  
“Why?”

Mary smiled. “You’re parroting, baby sister.”

“I mean, it’s natural isn’t it?” Sybil asked. “I read about it in a book about animals.”

“Oh darling. This is just the start. You’ll start filling out your dresses soon. At least Edith has the benefit of being unattractive. Before you know it the boys will be after you like bees on a flower.”

Sybil nestled her head into the pillow, looking admiringly up at her confident, beautiful, wondeful sister. “Like Billy is with you?”

Mary chuckled. “Oh darling, that’s just a flirtation. Nothing serious will come of it.” Sybil listened to the way Mary sounded out the word “flirtration”, like it was a throwaway thing, nothing serious.

“Do you love him?”

Mary chuckled even harder, her hands grasping her stomach. “Oh darling, darling. You have so much to learn.”

Sybil felt embarassed and found herself frowning “I should like to fall in love one day. With someone special. Someone who likes books, just like me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. And we’ll read the papers together.” She pouted. “And he’ll like me not because I’m the prettiest or the richest but because he loves me dearly.”

Mary looked at her a while before she kissed the top of Sybil’s head. It was sad, that kiss. Sybil would never forget just how sad it felt.

“How I wish that could be true.” Mary whispered.

“But it can be! We can try, Mary!” Sybil said, grabbing her eldest sister’s hand.

“There’s no use trying to fight against the tide, my love.” Mary said, running her hand through Sybil’s mess of hair. “Now you rest.”

Sybil settled down and Mary began to leave.

“Don’t give up, Mary.” She said. “Please don’t.”

Mary paused for a moment at the door, lowered her eyes, then left.

///  
[One year later]

The house seemed in a whirl as they prepared for Patrick’s visit. Sybil watched as the maids went in uniform procession from the top of the stairs. Oh, she was so very bored. When Patrick came at least they could all play. He’d tell them all about London and maybe he’d have brought sweets with him. She started to pick at a loose thread on her skirt. She really hated these new clothes Mama made her wear. The skirts made it difficult to walk and the heels squeezed her feet. But Mary said she’d get used to it. When she questioned why no one ever really gave her a clear answer. It was just what was done.

She laughed a little as Carson’s red face began shouting orders at the footmen. Poor things. At least they didn’t have to hobble about in skirts, though.

Her laughter was disturbed from the sound of shouting from Mary’s room. Sybil approached delicately and peeked through the crack in the door.

“You wretch!” Mary screamed. “Why on Earth would you do such a thing?!”

Edith stood against the wall, her face pale.

“Is this because of your silly crush?” Mary hissed. “You think that if my dress is ruined our engagement won’t go through?”

“You’re not engaged yet.” Edith said pointedly.

“No, but we will be.” Mary said. “You know it and I know it and we’ll just have to face it.” She said the last part ever so sadly. “Really, how pathetic. Pouring ink over my gown.”

The gown that Mama had made special. It was gorgeous. Ruby red and glittering. And Edith had—-

Edith ran out of the door. She was crying and Mary stood in the doorframe, firm and scowling, watching as Edith rushed down the stairs.

Sybil found her eventually curled in the Parthenon, a mess of red hair and blotchy skin

“Edith?” She asked. Her older sister turned to face her, none too pleased at being disturbed from her sanctuary where she would languish. They were all aware of the little spaces each had carved out for themselves.

For Sybil it was by the lake, all secret and drowned in sunlight. She usually lay there with a book or her doll, watching dragonflies dip in and out of the water. She would read poetry there (the Romantics, of course) or imagine make-believe castles springing out of the water and hidden in the reed-beds.

Mary preferred the South Wing, cold and lonely. She would steal one of Papa’s cigars and maybe some wine and would slump barefoot over some old, abandoned armchair from a long-dead ancestor. There she would think for hours, completely still, occassionaly blowing smoke rings.

Edith had been attracted to the Temple where she would think of Greek ruins, of the abysmal fate of Cassandra and imagine her Mary as the selfish, spiteful Helen.

“I suppose you’re here to tell me I’m awful.” Edith said bitterly.

“It was a cruel thing to do, Edith.”

“I know.” Edith sniffed.

“Then why did you do it?”

Edith looked upwards, as if searching for an answer. “Look, you—”

“Is it because you love Patrick?” Sybil asked. Edith started, then froze as she watched the thoughtful, kind face of her baby sister.

“Yes.” Edith said, her voice so quiet it could have easily been missed.

“Have you told him?”

Edith chuckled bitterly. “Oh yes. I’ll tell the man who is to be engaged to my sister that I’ve loved him all my life, that he should marry me instead.”

Sybil blinked. “Why don’t you?”

“Oh god, don’t be so naive!”

“Why not fight for him? Tell him how you feel!” Sybil said. “Mary doesn’t want to marry him, that much is obvious.”

“Then Downton would go to me. She’s the eldest sister Sybil. She is the focus, that is all.”

“But if you love him—”

“I have fought!” Edith said, her voice jagged with frustration. “Well, I tried. I thought, somehow, as if that beautiful dress was ruined…he might not fall in love with her. That he might look to me instead.”

Sybil was so confused. “I still don’t understand why you have given up.” She said, her voice getting higher.

“Because I live in this world, baby sister. I’ve forgotten the fairy tales and the novels.” Edith said, her voice cutting. “And if you know what’s best for you, you will too.”


End file.
